


I got a list of names (and yours is in red, underlined)

by orphan_account



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1920s, Alternate Universe - Noir, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Ryan Bergara is Ricky Goldsworth, Shane Madej is C.C. Tinsley, Slow Burn, They're both still dumbasses, graphic blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23928976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: ''Ricky Goldsworth, Mr Tinsley. You can see my concern.''Shane raised an angular eyebrow. ''Ricky Goldsworth? I haven't heard of him.''''How have you not heard of him? There's barely a crime that happens in this city that he's not behind. I met him once, and I felt like I was looking into the eyes of satan himself. He's murdered so many. I doubt there's any trace of human left in him.''''Well, if it's any consolation, I once stole my roommate's toothbrush, used it to clean dog shit off my shoe and then put it back in his bathroom. Nobody's perfect.''
Relationships: Ricky Goldsworth & C.C. Tinsley, Ricky Goldsworth/C. C. Tinsley, Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej, Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 14
Kudos: 48





	1. Prolougue

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all! This idea came to me while listening to Post Modern Jukebox's cover of Look What You Made Me Do and Gansta's Paradise on youtube. Not songs I'd listen to normally, but their covers are seriously awesome! I recommend listening to them while reading this, just to add element mainly.  
> I really enjoyed writing this so far, but if anyone has any ideas I would love to hear them!

The derelict basement was bitingly cold but Ryan Bergara's expression was colder. 

''You know I don't like liars, Mr Mendax.'' he whispered. The last word was punctuated with the flinching sound of a knife being sharpened. ''Even the pretty ones.''

''Mr Goldworth, sir, I didn't-''

Ryan smirked slightly at the alias, rolling up the sleeves of his tight white shirt, before slamming the knife into the chair. The blade struck barely half an inch from Mendax's face. He flinched. ''I can make this incredibly painful for you, Mr Mendax.  
Or you can cooperate.''

Gregory Mendax's face was shiny with sweat, illuminated by the lone lightbulb that hummed above his head like a wasp. He knew he was a liar. He knew he had double crossed Ryan. But he was tired. So tired. His thoughts had begun dissolving into a pool of nothingness. He just wanted to go home to his wife. Or maybe just to die. If it was swift. 

''Mr Goldsworth, I promise I'm not - I didn't - please-'' 

Ryan smiled, a smile that had become gradually more unhinged over the years. His teeth glinted and his eyes shone with menace. He made the noise of a clock ticking with his tongue. ''Time's running out, Mendax! Is that your final answer?''

Mendax writhed in his seat, wrists chafing against the rope that bound them. The chair rocked precariously to the side. There was no escaping it. Ricky Goldsworth guaranteed death as life guaranteed unjustice.

''They'll find you, Goldsworth!''

Eyebrows raised, Ryan picked up another knife from the table. He stroked his finger along the blade. Mendax's eyes widened with terror.

''You-you won't get away with this, Goldsworth!''

Grin stretching ever wider across his face, Ryan leaned in so close that Mendax could see the dark stubble coating his chin and the flex of his forearms as he drew the knife to his face agonizingly slowly. 

''I already have.''

And a with a deadly flick of his wrist, like a wizard's magic wand, Ryan sliced his throat.

He took a few dainty steps backwards, wiping the knife with a napkin and dusting his hands together. Mendax made a revolting gurgling noise as he twisted in his chair. Blood dripped from his neck and then spilled from his mouth as he choked. 

His gaze met Ryan's, who stared at his handiwork with a satisfied smirk. 

The dying man's eyes flickered like the lightbulb above, before going still and glassy. 

''It's a shame about the mess,'' Ryan said, as an afterthought, as the blood seeped across the concrete. ''I only bought this shirt the other day.''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title and chapter titles come from Look What You Made Me Do by Taylor Swift


	2. Don't like your perfect crime

The real, inherent, blatant problem with private detectives was, well, they had to be private.

This had proven to be difficult for Detective C.C. Tinsley, who was as talkative as he was nosey. He had been Shane Madej, before deciding that it was too incriminating. He was already noticeable for being 6'4''. He needed a name that was forgettable. 

His mother had been sceptical the day he had moved out in pursuit of crime and mystery. 

''Are you sure, dear? I thought you wanted to be a hot-shot camera man? I bought you that Newman whatsitchops for your Christmas!''

''It's a Newman-sinclair, and I've decided to give this a go. Please? You always said I had a detective brain.''

Sherry Madej tutted fondly. Her son was too tall for her to ruffle his hair, but she settled on smacking him gently with her oven mitt. ''Just don't get hurt, darling. As long as you're happy and... vaguely safe.''

He was happy, maybe, but safe he was not. Shane had been forced to move out of Chicago after revealing his true identity on his very first case and getting the entire Chicago mob on his tail. He vowed to return once they'd forgotten who he was.

New York had always seemed thrilling, bursting with oppurtunities. Oppurtunities meant money, and money meant crime.

''All rich people are murderers,'' Shane muttered under his breath with a sardonic smile, at least once a day. He considered putting it on his business card for a joke, but decided against it, solely because the printer company was charging 10 dollars per word.

Maybe the city was crime ridden, but no-one seemed to want them solved. The rent for his apartment kept getting higher and the income kept getting lower. He had sat in his office, feet on the desk, polishing the plaque on the door over and over again, as if the single specks of dust were the problem. His trench coat hung unused on the umbrella stand by the door, looking like a figure in the corner of Shane's eye.

It was a wednesday, but Shane didn't know it. The days had begun melting into each other. There was a knock on the door, a timid, half-hearted knock. Shane leapt up, spilling his cup of tea across the desk. Not that there was anything on the desk that was actually of use. It had been so long since he'd had a case he had framed the completed case file and put it on his wall. 

He pulled open the door to reveal a woman standing in the hallway. Her hair was curled under a floppy green hat, and she wore a long, green, flowered dress.

''Good morning!'' said Shane enthusiastically. The woman's terrified expression didn't change.

''Are you C.C. Tinsley?'' she enquired in a thick Brooklyn accent.

''No I -'' Shane winced. ''Yes. Yes, that's me. Come in! What can I do for you?''

''My name is Rosaline Mendax,'' she said, shuffling into the apartment. Rosaline wrinkled her nose at the mouldy walls and peeling wallpaper, before perching awkwardly on the chair opposite Shane. ''My husband has gone missing.''

Shane took out a notebook from a cupboard under his desk and began scribbling down information. ''Rosaline Mendax. And what is your husband's name?''

Rosaline blinked, and suddenly burst into tears. ''I'm sorry. I think I should just leave, I'm being ridiculous-''

She stood up, but Shane grabbed her arm. ''Mrs Mendax, please. I can help.''

Sniffing, she sat back down. ''I've tried everyone, Mr Tinsley. The police won't help. You are my last resort.''

Shane nodded. ''I swear I will work as hard as I can to find out what happened, ma'am. Everyone deserves truth in their life.''

Rosaline wiped her eyes with a silk handkerchief. ''My husband's name was Gregory. Gregory Mendax.''

''You say 'was.' What gives you the impression that he is dead?''

Her pencilled eyebrows furrowed. ''I don't know for certain, Mr Tinsley, but my husband had a very dangerous job. He was a reporter, see, and he was undercover working for very dangerous people.''

''I see. Any names?''

Rosaline shuddered slightly. ''Ricky Goldsworth, Mr Tinsley. You can see my concern.''

Shane raised an angular eyebrow. ''Ricky Goldsworth? I haven't heard of him.''

''How have you not heard of him? There's barely a crime that happens in this city that he's not behind. I met him once, and I felt like I was looking into the eyes of Satan himself. He's murdered so many people I doubt there's any trace of human left in him.''

''Well, if it's any consolation, I once stole my roommate's toothbrush, used it to clean dog shit off my shoe and then put it back in his bathroom. Nobody's perfect.''

Rosaline looked at him incredulously. ''Ricky Goldsworth is the most dangerous man in the city, and my husband was investigating him. If he got caught-'' she gasped and burst into a fresh wave of tears.

''Mrs Mendax, I will find out what happened to your husband. If he was murdered by this Goldsworth fella, I will take him down personally.''

There was a pause. The only sound was the sound of water dripping into a bucket from a hole in the roof. ''With all due respect, Mr Tinsley, you seem like a bit of an idiot. You're eating your food off a copy of Jane Eyre-'' Shane eyed the crumb covered book sheepishly -''But you're the best I've got right now.''

Shane offered her his hand and she shook it timidly. 

''I'm willing to work with that.''


	3. I don't trust nobody and nobody trusts me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know these chapters are super short I'm sorry

Shane adjusted his trilby hat and took a deep breath. He had never been nervous on a case before: he always went into the situations expecting the worse but with an attitude of mocking. He wanted to die laughing. 

But today, as he shuffled on the doorstep of the address Rosaline had given him, a feeling of dread washed over him. He pushed aside fear by making a joke or by turning of the corner in his brain that was scared, but now something was different. 

The name Ricky Goldsworth seemed to bounce around his brain like a ping pong ball. He couldn't predict what was going to happen next.

The door was the Penthouse apartment of one of the tallest buildings Shane knew. It was imposing, almost as imposing as the thought of who lived inside.

He rang the doorbell with a trembling finger.

An angry muttering from inside was accompanied by footsteps getting increasingly louder, and then the door swung open.

Whatever Shane was expecting, this wasn't it. The man was short, shorter by him by about half a foot, and his expression was calm. His eyes didn't look evil, on the contrary, they were warm and brown like chocolate. He was wearing a tight white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of black suspenders, and a distinctly unimpressed expression.

''Hello?'' he demanded, looking Shane up and down. ''What do you want?''

''I'm here to investigate the disappearance of Gregory Mendax,'' Shane said, trying to hide the fear in his voice. ''Can I come in?''

Ryan narrowed his eyes, and thought for a second. Then he smiled.

''Of course you can come in! Here, I just put the kettle on. You can call me Ryan.''

Shane blinked. ''Ryan?''

Ryan faltered. ''I - yes. Ryan.''

There was something about Ryan's face that made Shane's heart beat. It wasn't fear, it was something else, that he didn't recognise.

His apartment seemed to be mostly gold. Chandeliers hung from the ceilings and glittered in the paint-splash light the setting sun was throwing through the windows overlooking the city. As Ryan led him through to the living room, Shane gawked at the paintings hung in ornate frames.

''Have a seat!'' Ryan offered, gesturing at the velvet sofas and chaise-lounges that sat around the enormous rug in the centre of the living room They looked expensive to sit down, but Ryan's gaze compelled him to obey.

''My name's Shane,'' Shane said, and then cursed himself inwardly. What was it about this man that made his brain shut down? He was a criminal.

''Shane?'' smiled again. His smile was almost disconcerting. It lured you closer, like a siren's song. ''It's lovely to meet you. I love your hat, by the way.''

''I- uh -'' Shane blinked rapidly. ''Thank you?'' 

He wasn't expecting this conversation from the person who he was possibly investigating for murder. Somehow this made it harder.

''Now, tell me again why you're here. Are you police?'' Ryan had reclined against the opposite sofa, his shiny black shoes propped up on the foot rest.

''No, I'm a Private Detective,'' it always felt good to tell people that.

''A pretty boy like you? I'm surprised. A wife at home? Someone to miss you?''

Shane blushed, and failed to detect the threat in the last question. ''I - no. Not really my thing.''

''Really?'' Ryan stood up and began circling the chaise where Shane sat like a cat. The hairs on the back of Shane's neck shivered as Ryan ran his hand along the chair, coming to rest on Shane's shoulder, and then moving up to cup his chin. Ryan lifted his face up and looked at him through his lashes. ''Such a shame. Someone would be lucky to have you, you know. Such a shame.''

''Do you know Gregory Mendax?'' Shane asked, determined to press on.

''I did actually. He was such a pretty one, too. He will be missed.''

''You mean he's dead? Shane spluttered. He would have to tell Rosaline. ''Did you kill him?''

Ryan put his hands on Shane's shoulder and whispered in his ear. ''Of course I did, big guy. I slit his throat and watched him bleed across the floor-'' Shane tried to stand up, but Ryan had pinned him down. ''-And now I'm going to have to kill you, too. I'm really sorry about that.'' 

And before Shane could cry out, Ryan wrapped his hands around his neck.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and kudos are always greatly appreciated! :)


End file.
